


Definitely Not

by MortuaryBee



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comedy, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Intoxication, Snogging, Stag Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortuaryBee/pseuds/MortuaryBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary won 40 quid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not

John hummed and grunted a series of noncommittal noises in the back of his throat. “No. Nope...No, definitely no-.” He hummed again, paused for a moment to reconsider, and pulled Sherlock back into a kiss. “Yup. Yeah, definitely not gay.”

He leaned back into his chair with a satisfied sigh and took a sip of his brandy to get the taste of stale beer out of his mouth. Or Sherlock’s. He couldn’t remember. “You?”

Sherlock blinked slowly and smacked his lips a few times while he waited for his head to catch up to the room. “Uhm,” He raised the pitch of his voice and prolonged the syllable for a moment before realizing he was still making noise. He promptly ended it with a loud exhale and slumped further down in his chair. “‘m not sure to be entirely ho-” He struggled to get the word out. “Hon-hones-”

“The truthy one?”

Sherlock hummed.

John pursed his lips and shook his head from side to side. “Well, what then. Is it the,” John trailed off as he made a series of nondescript hand gestures before giving up and leaning his head on his outstretched palm for balance. He caught himself just as he hit the floor. He paused, supported by his hands and knees and considered getting all the way back into his chair, but decided against making a fool of himself and leaned against the seat, legs out stretched in front of him.

“Pff, No.” Sherlock returned decidedly, seemingly unaware of his friend’s newly misplaced bum. “S’not that. I-I think I like kissing-” Sherlock narrowed his eyes to try and focus on all three of his flatmates at once. Were they shorter now?

John let out an amused and somewhat startled laugh. ”And that-that is new.”

“Shut-up! I’m not,” Sherlock’s indignation was interrupted by a hiccup which sent John into a round of uncontrolled laughter. “I’m not finished!” 

“Well, out with it Holmes.” He tapped a foot against Sherlock’s ankle. “We haven’t go-” It was John’s turn to suppress a burp. “got all night.”

“Yes we do! It’s only nearly...” He scrambled to find his cellphone but John kicked the coffee table hard enough to knock it off. He smiled sweetly at the resulting annoyed look.

“No, come on then. Out with it.”

Sherlock let out an all- suffering sigh that John was certain was entirely horseshit. He’d say so too as soon as he remembered what it was he was annoyed about.

“Fine. I think I like kissing.” He grimaced at his own realization. “I just don’t like kissing you...” He paused to consider. “Don’t think you’re a very good kisser.” 

“Oooh, well.” John exclaimed to the room at large and hauled himself off the floor. “You’re the world’s bloody expert on kissing then?” He accused from above the detective. “Cause I’m sure you have loads of expe-”

“No.”

John blinked, confused. "No?" He swayed on his feet for a moment. “No what?”

“No, no one.” Sherlock’s arm flailed in the general direction of the fireplace. “You know.” He took another sip of brandy and focused on the slow crackle of the fire.

“Oh. Well, that’s alright then…” He sniffed and cocked his head to one side. “I’m still mad. Why am I mad?”

“No idea.” Sherlock admitted.

“No, no.” John wagged his finger at the ceiling. “You,” He turned towards his traitorous flatmate and pointed. “You said I was a bit gay.”

“In all fairness-” Started Sherlock, slowly sloshing his drink before being cut off.

“And then I said I wasn’t and you said “Well, how do you know?”” John lowered his voice, sauntered around the living room, and made dramatic gestures for extra effect. “”You don’t know anything.” and I said "Well I don’t know; I’m not bloody gay, am I?”” He asked again with renewed vigor and awaited a response with a hand on his hip and pursed lips. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed. When John realized there was no answer forthcoming he continued. “And then we snogged to prove I wouldn’t like it and you...” He paused for a moment, face suddenly slack, blinked rapidly and furrowed his brow as if this would somehow help him remember. “You said.” He snapped excitedly when he remembered. When he remembered more clearly he frowned and crossed his arms. “You said I wasn’t a good kisser.” 

John stared expectantly at Sherlock who eventually sighed and gave in. “No, I said you weren’t a very good kisser. There’s a difference, and what” Sherlock frowned as John pulled out his phone. “What’re you doing?” 

John ignored him and Sherlock hated being ignored even more when he was inebriated. “Who’re you calling?” He reached out to wave a hand in John’s face, but couldn’t be bothered with getting out of his chair. The detective ended up waving an arm in his flatmate’s general direction, and when that didn’t work, let out a noise that he would later deny was anything resembling a whine. “John?”

John shushed Sherlock as he waited for the call to go through. “Am I a good kisser?”

“Are you a what now?” Asked a somewhat confused feminine voice.

“Am-am I a good kisser?”

“Mm, well…” This conversation was not anything like how John wanted it to be.

“Mary!”

“Well...It’s just sometimes you get a bit enthusiastic and then sometimes you just use way too much-

“Tongue! Knew I’d get it eventually.” Sherlock, who had managed to slide halfway out of his chair without noticing, exclaimed from behind them. 

“Is that Sherlock?” He swirled around as if the call could see Sherlock

“No.” John responded quickly as a small blush rose to his cheeks that had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Yes!” Sherlock grabbed the phone from John and held it out of reach for a second as he stumbled to turn on the speaker function. “Hello, Mary.” He grinned satisfactorily as John snatched it back.

“Hello, dear. Have you by chance been snogging my fiancee?”

“Well I wouldn’t call it sno-” Began John, as he still slurred his words.

“Also, yes.” The smirk was audible.

“Sherlock! Mary listen, I’m very drunk n’ he sai-”

“Proof.”

“Wh…” John blinked. He was the last sane person he knew. “Sorry, what?”

“Well I want some proof don’t I? Can’t win a bet without proof.”

A strangled noise is all John could manage at first. “A bet?” He asked incredulously. “Who-” He ran a hand through his hair and flopped to the floor next to the detective. “Who’s betti-”

“Pictures are preferable. And not the crappy selfie kind either. I know he’s got some good quality camera equipment in that flat of his somewhere.” She had a hard time keeping the laugh from her voice.

“I do!” 

“Not helping, Sherlock.”

“Not helping, Sherlock.” Sherlock mocked from the bottom of his chair. He had resorted to using the footrest as a headrest.

“We don’t have any pictures, bu-”

“So,” Mary dragged out the single syllable like she was still in elementary school. “What else did you get up to?"

“What else?” The blush worked it’s way to his forehead. “What exactly are you implying?”

“He put his hand on my knee!” Sherlock supplied.

“That was an accident!”

“Said he didn’t mind.” Sherlock added, half asleep, and Mary giggled.

“Try a little higher next time, love. Might have better luck.”

“Mary, stop it. I wasn’t gettin’ him off-”

“Get off? Who’s getting off?” Sherlock’s head snapped up from the chair as he frantically scanned the room. “I can get you off. Did-did you murder someone? I can help with that, you know. I do that.”

“Yes, you do.” Agreed Mary in the way one agrees with a small child who just fit the circle block into it’s proper hole for the first time.

“I’m very good at it.” He explained to the arm of his chair.

“I’m sure you are, but that’s not what we’re talking about right now.”

“Oh…” Sherlock erupted off the footrest with a loud, pained noise and flopped face first onto the carpet next to John. “Well, I’m bored.”

“Oh, god.” John groaned. “Now look what you’ve done. He’ll be like this all night.”

“Me? I’ve hardly done anything. I-”

“You!” The world-famous detective interrupted. “You’re not even supposed to be here. Why’re you here?...” He looked confusedly around the room before his eyes settled on John. “You’re not here. Where are you?”

“I’m on the phone.”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose in mild disgust and confusion. “Well, I don’t care because...because…”

“Yes, Sherlock?” Mary replied patiently. 

“Jus’ give him a minute he’ll…” John’s speech slowed as he began to nod off. “He’ll do something..." His eyes closed. His head fell to the detective's shoulder. "eventually I think.”

“Girls!” Sherlock exclaimed triumphantly. The noise startled John awake. “No girls allowed. It’s...it’s a stag thing. S’ not a proper, uh...”

“Stag night.” Mary clarified. Sherlock shrugged.

“Yeah some stag night alright-” Replied John groggily.

“Hush, he’s trying isn’t he?”

“Yes, but. But no girls. And you are decidedly womanly.” Sherlock accused from behind John, glaring at the screen of his phone.

“Why thank you Sherlock.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Oi tha’s, tha’s my wife. You tit.” John pushed Sherlock harder than he’d meant to in the chest and the detective promptly flopped over onto his side with a grunt. John ignored the annoyed man behind him and turned back to his phone.

“Not quite yet, dear. Still got a bit to go before that.”

“Do we?” He asks absentmindedly. “Oh, oh yeah the-the thing right. With the cake.”

“Lots of cake. But I’m afraid he’s right. Not a proper stag night with the soon to be missus hanging around the whole time now is it? And besides I-” Mary was abruptly cut off by the flick of Sherlock’s thumb. He let the phone fall out of his hand as John fixed him with a glare.

“What? You’ll see plenty of her tomorrow.”

“All of her if I play my cards right.” John grinned, Sherlock frowned, and after a moment they both laughed.


End file.
